


flock together

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: If Akaashi liked him—then what wouldn’t Bokuto do for him—





	

“Yeah, he likes her,” Konoha said, “almost as much as Akaashi likes you.” 

Bokuto had known Konoha a good three years, so he could tell Konoha had no mischievous glint in his eye. The casual statement was an innocent fact. Saru had a crush on a girl like Akaashi had a crush on Bokuto. 

“Huh,” Bokuto said. He had pushed his kneepads down to his ankles, so his knees felt newly damp and tingled from the air. Across the court, Akaashi was speaking to a first-year. He stood, as always, with his back in a trim straight line. His long finger pointed towards the basketball hoop against the wall. 

He had never suspected Akaashi liked him. If Akaashi fell into step beside him, he was usually apologizing on his behalf or softly chiding his behavior. But he did know that when the others left, Akaashi would wait for him by the gym doors.

Perhaps Akaashi did like him and he never noticed. Bokuto only associated ‘like’ with chocolates and flowers and turbulent waves of adulation. But Akaashi always said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and folded his napkins with his lunch. The difference between a second-year and third-year, the appropriateness of a vice-captain dating his captain, the team dynamics of the setter and the ace. Maybe Akaashi would grip his fingers together, knuckles arching into pious cathedrals, and deny himself the adoration. Bokuto couldn’t stand that thought. 

But he didn’t know how he felt about Akaashi. Akaashi was—Akaashi. Neat, blunt, polite. Always beside him. Always the one to touch his back. But Akaashi had given him so much, he could at least give this much in return. He could at least try. 

“Wait, Akaashi,” he blurted out in the club room. Akaashi had finished changing, hand brushing against the door handle. 

“Are you hungry?” Bokuto struggled to loop his bag over his neck. “Let’s go out to eat. My treat.” 

“If you’d like,” Akaashi said indifferently, except his eyes darted to a messy pile of magazines. He spoke with a reserved politeness. When Bokuto finally stumbled away from his locker, bag strap twisted over his shoulder, Akaashi held the door open for him. 

Bokuto’s heart ached in small thumps. Akaashi was always being good to him. He gave so much: time, dedication, friendship. He was quietly generous without asking for acknowledgment or applause. That Akaashi had never asked anything from him was simply abhorrent. Akaashi took care of him. He could take care of Akaashi, too. 

They settled for a fast food restaurant. Students already crowded the tables, swirling checkered skirts and loosened ties. Even against the cherry red seats, Akaashi looked impeccable. He had unbuttoned his jacket, a strange casualness, and revealed the crispness of his white shirt and his sturdy waist. When he reached for the shared box of fries, his shirt sleeve would ride up to reveal the delicate veins. 

Bokuto had pulled out his textbook, but his pencil idly rolled into the valley of lined papers. Akaashi diligently worked his way through his math problems. He had plugged his phone into the outlet, occasionally tapping into its calculator. Bokuto tried to think about his homework, too, but he was looking too much at the messy furls of Akaashi’s hair, the dip of his neck. Akaashi had a habit of clicking the top of his mechanical pencil. Click click. Click. Bokuto swallowed and turned to the fake shrubbery that hid their booth from the others. 

“Is something wrong?” Akaashi thumbed the lead back into his pencil. 

“What?” 

“Is something wrong?” Akaashi repeated. “You’re not talking.” He had a strange little frown, a slight tilt of his mouth, and Bokuto knew Akaashi was concerned. Even while sketching out angles, Akaashi had been thinking about him.

He liked Akaashi, who was good and kind to him. And if—this meant anything to Akaashi—if it could make him even a little bit happy—

Bokuto grasped Akaashi’s hand and pulled, fingers wrapping around his bony wrist. Akaashi jerkily leaned into the table, his elbow knocking his cell phone askew from the charger and the screen flared. Bokuto inched forward and Akaashi blinked, parted his mouth, closed his eyes, and Bokuto kissed him, awkward and warm. Akaashi’s mouth was soft. He could feel him kissing back, a small but strong push. Bokuto was scared of letting go, scared of not being able to let go. He felt like he was losing himself to the taste of fries and the hum of the electric lights and the sharpness of Akaashi’s hand. 

When he pulled away, Akaashi stayed still. His eyes were open. 

“Was,” Bokuto said, “Was that okay? Akaashi? Is this—”

Akaashi grabbed him by the tie, close to the knot, and pulled him back across the table. This time the kiss was an affirmative sear. When Akaashi sat back, he was panting slightly. 

“It’s okay,” Akaashi said, soft and quick. “It’s fine if you like me. If that’s why you follow me around. I—know, sometimes you worry, you think you’re not good enough, but, please. If this is what you want, then it’s what you deserve.”

“What?” Bokuto stared. “I thought _you_ were the one who liked _me_.” 

Akaashi blinked.

“But weren’t you the one who liked—” Akaashi started, and then the furrow in his brow abruptly smoothed over in realization. A silence dropped between them.

Bokuto laughed. It was more like a roar, shoulders dropping in relief. He gripped his stomach, collapsing back into his seat. Akaashi had also leaned back, hands folded. A fond smile played over his face. 

“Akaashi,” Bokuto said, between half-choked laughs, “What are we doing?” 

“I thought you’d know,” Akaashi said, dry and playful. Bokuto chuckled, easing out his laughs in short spurts. He felt such affection to Akaashi, who would care so much for him, who looked at him and only asked himself what more he could do. Akaashi’s eyes glinted with amusement and warmth. Bokuto slid his hand across the marbled table, slipping underneath Akaashi’s calloused palm and weaving their fingers together. Akaashi’s expression softened. Bokuto grinned and leaned forward, waiting. 

This time, Akaashi kissed him gently.


End file.
